


I Know A Place

by redtulipslove



Series: Running Circles Around Time [2]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Eventual Smut, Fluff, Lust, M/M, Romance, Sensual Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 20:00:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15647934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redtulipslove/pseuds/redtulipslove
Summary: This is the second story that stems from my over-active imagination and a need to fill in the gaps of those in-between days and moments that Elio and Oliver shared when they became lovers, but we never saw.This will form part of a series of interludes entitled "Running Circles Around Time".Please feel free to read the previous story "Undone", as this story leads directly on from that one.





	I Know A Place

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to CCheartofhearts for all your help with this and the previous story and for being a lovely friend in this crazy fandom.
> 
> A shout out also to StarFromPhoenix for your lovely friendship, and your amazing stories, which brighten my day. 
> 
> Finally, I am not a French speaker, so apologies in advance for any glaring language errors in this story - please feel free to pull me up on anything you think should be changed.

I know a place  
we could go  
no one has been there  
and no one will know

I know a place - Conan Gray

 

We were cycling together, Oliver and I.

He had feigned nonchalance when I got back from my trip with Mom, but his game was up when Anchise told me our bikes were oiled and ready to ride - Oliver had asked him to check them over while I was gone. I liked knowing he'd been waiting for my return.

We'd been on many bike rides over the summer, but only once to my spot - the day I told him about the things that matter. Going back today, to the place I'd nervously shared with him then, was something that felt right while all the stars were aligned in our universe now.

Oliver hadn't asked the route we would take. He seemed to know the way with little help from me. Maybe he'd remembered. Or maybe he had come here, during those many hours when no one knew where he was. That impromptu thought made my skin tingle. 

He was ahead of me as always. I used it as an excuse to admire the view. His shirt clung to his back in the scorching Lombardy heat, his long legs pedalling slower than mine, and using half as less energy.

I wondered how much sweat had gathered behind his knees, and what it would taste like.

All at once, I had caught up to him. We slowed down to a stop. 

"This is where you over took me that time," he said. His breathing was a little ragged. I watched his chest rise and fall.

"You let me", I said, knowing exactly the time he meant. I reached inside his shirt and pressed my hand against his heart, letting the beats throb against my fingers.

"I had my reasons," he said, watching my thumb stroke his nipple. 

_We'd been minutes from the Berm. A nervous energy had fluttered around us the whole way there. I remember laughing for no reason as I went ahead, the breeze capturing it before Oliver could hear. Knowing he was so close behind me made me feel lightheaded and drunk._

"Come here," he said, grabbing my arm. I leaned towards him whilst trying to remain upright on the bike. 

"I was admiring the view," he said, breathing his words into my mouth, "and I wasn't disappointed". We were a kiss away from losing the plot. I wouldn't have cared. But I knew he would, despite us being the only people here.

He dropped my arm and reached behind me, bringing out the water in my backpack. 

"What's the book in there?" he asked.

"Later," was all I could think of to say in reply. He laughed knowingly, as he brought the bottle to his lips. 

I watched as he took several long gulps. He handed the bottle to me, and stared as I did the same.

His eyes held mine. Blue and green were good friends by now. 

"We're nearly there," I said, taking off again. Oliver hung back for me. 

"You don't have to wait for me, I can't keep up with you."

"I know, but I want to," he said. He looked around before offering his hand out to me. 

I took his hand and he held mine in a tight grip as we set off. He looked at me for a long time before facing ahead, and I desperately wanted to know where inside him this gesture had sprung from. But I didn't want to risk spoiling it, so I stayed quiet, silently willing him to look at me again. 

When he did, words from a long-ago poem came into my mind.

 _La courbe de tes yeux fait le tour de mon cœur._ (The curve of your eyes goes around my heart)

I looked away for fear he could somehow read my thoughts. I was deliriously giddy and the Italian countryside was in on the joke, as birds dived and swooped above our heads.

We held hands the rest of the way.

 

I reluctantly dropped his when we had to navigate a narrow grass verge leading to the Berm. 

After dismounting, Oliver ran ahead, quickly removing his shoes before stepping into the water.

"Not as bad when you're expecting it to be cold," he said, but I knew he was faking it. The Alpi Arobie is never kind no matter who was in its waters. We splashed around, feeling giddy as we cooled down from the long ride in the hot sun. We spent most of our time staring at each other, remembering. Did the trees and the grass and the water know who we were, and were they keeping all our secrets to themselves?

We sat on the bank, our feet in the water, his touching mine, mine touching his. The sounds of summer hummed and purred around us. I watched his toes slip between mine. He knew what this did to me, and what I wanted to do to him in return was not fit for public display. 

We stayed that way for a while, talking low as we basked in the tranquillity of this place, and I wished for time to stop.

He kissed the back of my neck as we stepped out, and I wanted to climb all over him.

I found the tree near where we had kissed the first time, and we sat down under its shade. We shared the rest of the water, and I took advantage of my position to lean in and smell his hair. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I brought my mouth to his and we kissed, this time knowing he didn't have to be good. 

'I like being here again, with you, in your spot,' he murmured, tracing his mouth and fingers along my throat. 

"Our spot," I said, moving my head to give him better access. 

He stopped for a second, so I knew he'd heard me. 

It was our spot, yes, but in a few days’ time, I would be the only one coming back. His presence would be here, but he wouldn't.

The idea of that brutal reality whilst I was here with him now, did battle in my head. I didn't want that to spoil this. 

'Our spot,' he repeated. 'I would like it to be, thank you.'

Thank-you's didn't come any finer. 

He continued to dot kisses along my neck, and pushed me down into the grass. 

He stared down at me with his beautiful open smile, and it compelled me to thank him in return. 

_Que mes baisers soient les mots d’amour que je ne te dis pas_ (Let my kisses be the words of love that I don’t say)

He stared at me. 'Say that again,' he said. He brought his fingers back along the line of my jaw, and up towards my mouth. His thumb rested on my bottom lip as I repeated the words he wanted to hear.

 _Que mes baisers soient les mots d’amour que je ne te dis pas,_ I whispered.

I brought his head closer to mine, and kissed him again. Softly, at first, matching the warm strokes of his hand on my face. His body was next to mine, and I draped a leg over his, pulling him towards me with my foot. Our kisses continued, until he was lying on me, our hips aligned and happy to be meeting again. I had my arms wrapped around him, one hand in his hair, and the other under his shirt, touching his back. 

I traced my fingers delicately along his spine, as the kisses slowed down and Oliver opened his eyes to look at me. 

'I think we should go,' he said, grinding his hips on mine more than once. 'I know myself.'

'I know you too,' I said. feeling his hard-on press on me. I held him fast against mine and did the same to him. 

'If we stay here much longer,' he said, 'I may want to eat you alive.' 

He licked my neck before finally releasing himself off me, and stood up.

He pulled me up and slammed me deliberately against him. 

'But say that to me again - later,' he said. 

As he released his grip on me, and reached for our bikes, blood rushed to my head.

'I intend to,' I said.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it. Comments and kudos are very much welcomed!
> 
> The long-ago poem is "The Curve of Your Eyes" by Paul Éluard (1926)
> 
> The lyrics are from a song called "I know a place" by Conan Gray. You can see a beautiful video of him singing this in a field on You Tube. There's also a gorgeous, dreamy (but very short) CMBYN fan edit on Instagram.


End file.
